


Mark the Date

by kathierif_fic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Clint spending the night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark the Date

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rounds_of_kink New Year's Miniround with the prompt "Focus" and the kink "Markers of Arousal".

There is, Phil Coulson thinks with a hint of pride that he can't suppress, nothing that looks as satisfying as this: Clint, naked except for one sock and sprawled out across the sheets, eyes slitted and muscles relaxed, his deadly focus for once softened and his hands curled around thin air instead of weapons and the fiberglass of his bow. 

Phil is leaning up on his elbows, close enough to feel Clint's body heat all along his side, and keeps watch over him. He knows his own skin is already reddened by the touch of Clint's stubble, and he can't even say that he minds.

Not tonight, not now, not with Clint safely home.

Quite the opposite. He is sated and happy to have Clint here, in his bed, sprawled out, relaxed and comfortable.

Clint's lips curve into a teasing smile, and he turns his head toward Phil without opening his eyes.

"Hey, there," he murmurs.

Phil grins. He can't help himself. "Hey yourself," he replies and leans down, to brush his lips against Clint's. "You good?"

"Yes, sir," Clint says and twists his body in a way that makes Phil jealous for a split second, until Clint's body is covering his own, Clint's knees pressing into the mattress next to Phil's hips, and Phil finds himself pinned under that intense gaze that misses nothing, nothing at all, and his focus deteriorates under Clint's attention.

Hands cover his wrists to hold him in place, and Clint leans down to kiss him, his lips warm and insistent against Phil's.

He keeps kissing him, deep and wet and perfect, lips moving against lips, Clint's stubble rasping against Phil's skin and his tongue licking deep into Phil's mouth. They don't stop kissing until Phil's lips feel tender and swollen, hot and raw, and Clint looks the same, mouth red and bitten and his pupils wide and dark.

It's not as if Phil wants to complain when Clint shifts and lines himself up with Phil's cock, when he slides down and takes him in, when he arches his back and starts moving after just a brief heartbeat to adjust to Phil's size again, a slow up-and-down rhythm that quickens after just a short while, but a small sound of protest still escapes his throat and he reaches out, reaches up to pull him back down, close to his mouth.

None of them is really able to focus on kissing at this point. They're both too far gone, too caught up in their own sensations, but they do pant against each other's open mouths, and then Clint drops his head to Phil's shoulder instead, and Phil presses his mouth to sweaty, salty skin to stop himself from babbling out something he's not quite sure is welcome here. 

He doesn't remember biting down, but when Clint straightens, a moment later, sits up and takes Phil deep into himself again, squeezing hot and tight and perfect around Phil until he sees stars burst across his eyelids everytime he closes his eyes, a red spot blossoms on his shoulder, where Phil's mouth has been, under his collarbone, where it will be hidden by shirts and uniforms. It is small and red and will most likely be gone within a day at most.

It doesn't matter to Phil. His attention zeroes in on that little red mark, caused by his mouth, and seeing his mark on Clint's body fills him with wild arousal and fierce possessiveness, both in a strength he doesn't recognize in himself.

It's liberating, and scary at the same time, and Phil can't focus, can't do anything but feel, and let Clint hold him together with the strength of his legs and hands and mouth and mind, and marvel at the fact that he himself managed to leave so much of an impression on this man, that he helped forming him into the great field agent he is today, that he managed to do all that for Clint, that he gave so much of himself to the younger man with every day they spent together.

He comes with thoughts like that swirling through his mind, and Clint follows quickly behind, his spine arched, the mark on his shoulder on display for Phil, his come hot and wet across Phil's stomach, marking him as much as Phil has.

They are both silent for a moment while their heartbeats slow back to a normal pace, Clint's forehead pressed to Phil's shoulder again, and Phil's fingers brushing through Clint's hair.

Sweat and come can get washed off, he thinks, and bruises and teethmarks will fade, but it remains a fact that he has left a mark on Clint, and Clint on him - an invisible mark that still means so much.

A promise, he thinks, to stay faithful and honest with each other.

Clint's tongue touches his neck, a small caress that makes Phil shudder despite the fact that he's done for the night. "What're you thinkin'?" he slurs, exhaustion washing out his words. It makes Phil love him only more, if that's even possible.

Phil tightens his grip on him, holds on to him with all his strength and tenderness, and murmurs the first thing coming to his mind, which is, fittingly, "Happy New Year, Barton."

Clint shifts and grins up at him before giving the mess between them a quick grimace. 

"I'd say it started out well enough," he muses, and Phil can't not lean up and pull him into another kiss, soft, tender and full of emotions he can't even name.

The year really starts well enough, and it can get only better from here on.


End file.
